Truly Inspirational
by Lyra Kamiya
Summary: Burgh and Lenora grew up together, from grade school through college. With that time running short, the two find themselves making the most of it between each other and a few cans of paint, in an abandoned warehouse in their dying hometown of Nacrene...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Yes, yes. I'm working on more new things instead of finishing my old projects, terribly sorry for that. There comes a certain point of writer's block, laziness, and wasting the last of my vodka to try and break the first two where I just have to give up and do whatever my brain tells me. In this case, it was blaze my way through this story in just over 3 days, most of it written during lunch breaks or insane hours of the morning.  
>That's right, this is actually all but done already, 14 pages knocked out in an obscenely short amount of time compared to what I've been writing lately. I'm posting it chaptered both because it flows better that way, and because my editor's only got the first part done so far anyway.<br>For all the comedy and smut I write, this is actually the type of story I enjoy writing the most; ones that are just simple and touching, that express a moment in time, especially from a past we don't otherwise see for a character. I used to shy away from them, despite my love of them, out of a fear they'd be lost amongst more serious or more graphic stories, but OtBW has been so well received that I went ahead with this at last.  
>Speaking of graphic, however, there <em>will<em> be a more graphic edit posted on AFF once I'm done, for the people who prefer that sort of thing.  
>Okay, longest author note ever done.<p>

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><p><strong>Truly Inspirational<strong>  
><em>LyraeonLyra Kamiya_

Tomorrow was the final day. Graduation. Four years of college, completed at last. Lenora had turned in the last of her thesis hours before, then sat down to pour through another book before bed.

Burgh had thrown open her door with nothing resembling care, a bag of groceries in one hand and a mostly-finished dress in the other. "You should be celebrating, not holed up in this tiny apartment," he'd coaxed, already pulling down the necessary pots and pans.

"You're one to talk," she laughed, turning another page. "You've been missing for three days. Did you forget the Calculus final?" The two friends had different majors, but had managed to keep at least one class together each year none the less.

"Yes," he admitted, kicking the stove when the gas didn't come on at the first try. "But I passed anyway."

Lenora stayed quiet under the sound of running water and pots clanging, a knowing smile crossing her face. They'd known each other since elementary school, so by now she was used to the fact that Burgh would have matched her 4.0 average were it not for his hatred of mathematics. Even when he sewed, there was no measurements involved beyond estimation – he had an excellent eye for sizes, and she hadn't known him to make any mistakes with that instinct, not since the first time he'd brought her a shirt in junior high. She knew his latest project would be brought around the corner in just a moment, and started counting silently as soon as the kitchen grew quiet.

"One... two... three..."

"I want you to try this on," he called unceremoniously, and she turned to look over at him. To her surprise, his arms were hidden behind his back, only the barest edge of the green fabric visible around his skinny frame. "But I want you to close your eyes."

"...Not this again," she laughed. "I love your surprises, but how am I supposed to get changed if I can't see?"

He frowned, taking the kind of slow breath he only took when he'd been drinking a little and needed to gather his thoughts.

"I hope you brought some for me," she teased, finally putting her book away and slipping off the couch.

"Better," he answered. "And I can put it on you for you."

She stared at him for a moment, eyebrows slowly rising as she tried to decide if he was serious or not, before she burst out laughing. "That's real cute honey, but it's not happening."

"I've painted you naked before," Burgh countered, and her laughter fell short.

"You didn't turn those in, did y-"

"Of course not. I don't smoke before class. They stayed in my sketchbook."

Lenora nodded, reaching up to push her hair behind her shoulder.

"Please. This dress... its full potential won't be reached until you're wearing it. I just know it."

She blushed. He always said things like that; always designed things especially for her. Even as her figure had begun to broaden in the last two years, and she'd started to see her mother when she looked in the mirror, he'd remained insistent that her height and her curves made her the ideal woman for his designs.

"_Please_," he repeated, taking a step forward. "I bought a new roll of film for the Polaroid. I want you to wear this dress and I want you to pose down by the old train yard. You're the last light in this dying city."

She smiled softly, sighing as she relented. "Let's eat first, so I don't risk getting it dirty."

"Of course."

"Alright then, let's get back in that kitchen."

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><p>Lenora held her breath for several seconds, both to keep still while Burgh closed the last inch of zipper, and to give the hit she'd taken a moment to sink in before she exhaled. "So what made you decide green was my color?"<p>

"Emerald," he corrected, "and ivory is your color, but it's too hard to work it with the flash. Call this a compromise."

Lenora chuckled as he let go. He was always the sort to have the last thing planned out that anyone would expect – like how he came with noodles and beef for stroganoff because he knew she was never going to bother with the last of the sour cream otherwise.

"I made that homecoming dress for you, it was just a little lighter," he continued, tying her sash deftly and smoothing the loose ends.

"Oh right. Junior year, I think?" She shifted impatiently, the floor creaking under her. For most things, she could handle the wait, but combining the anticipation of seeing Burgh's latest creation with the nervousness of letting him dress her directly left her too aware of each second.

"Yes. With the flowers."

"I think that was the only thing you ever made for me that I hated," she admitted, trying to sneak a glance downward before one of his hands clapped over her eyes.

"No peeking. And no, you hated the skirt I made you for your 14th birthday, too."

"...Did you even know how to pleat correctly?"

"I didn't know the meaning of the word," he laughed, his voice traveling around her in a slow circle as he looked her over. He snatched the pipe from her hand, and she heard him inhale and pause before he added, "Alright... open your eyes."

She did so, slowly, and turned a few inches to the left to get a full view of herself in the mirror.

Burgh was right. The dress looked brilliant on her, hugging each curve of her body perfectly, somehow making her look at once as womanly as she was now at 22 and as slender as she was at 17. "This is... amazing," she whispered, fingers running across the silky material, tracing the accents and the slit that ended on her thigh.

"I saw some shoes on 8th street that would make it just perfect. Oh, and that gold necklace your aunt gave you."

"I'm surprised you didn't say gloves. You always say gloves," she smiled as she turned to look at the back, which extended high enough for her hair to cover.

"It's summer. Besides, this material would have pinched too much at the fingertips," he answered, setting the bowl to the side and reaching for the jewelry box she kept on her dresser.

"Why the train yard?" She held her hair up as he clasped the necklace. "That place has been dying for 20 years."

"And yet it hangs on," he countered, smoothing her waves once she let them go. "It wants something to bring a spark back to it."

She giggled again, picking their pipe back up. "I know how much you love your creations, but a few photos won't bring back an entire district."

"Maybe not," he agreed, and Lenora couldn't help but notice the sparkle in her old friend's eye. "But I still want to see those shots."

As she stood in awe of his grin, she pitied – not for the first time, either – his lack of interest in her gender. Burgh didn't seem fully aware of his status, but he'd never had a second date in his life, and no one graduated a virgin without either trying to do so or being gay. Part of her still wanted to believe that he was holding out for just the right girl, or that he could clothe her without even a joking spank purely because he respected her. But she'd seen his gaze linger too long on equally pretty boys, and so she'd given up on him, flirting with the more practical men her literature classes afforded her.

"Then... let's go."

They made their way across town arm in arm, she in her dress and most comfortable high-tops, he in the brightly patterned sort of clothes he'd picked up on his last trip to Castelia. Twice he stopped, coaxing Lenora to pose.

"I heard they're trying to close it down," she murmured during their second pause, gazing at the museum across the street. "Not enough funding. No one cares about a bunch of dusty old rocks."

"You do."

The faintest hint of a smile crossed her face, only to be wiped off when she was suddenly blinded by his camera's flash.

"Sorry. I just knew you'd never be able to hold that look."

She rolled her eyes and then tried to rub the spots away, before snatching his sketchbook from him and starting to page through it as they continued down the street. He fanned the Polaroid in one hand, watching as she tilted the book to catch the glow of each passing streetlight. The sketches were split equally between his two favorite subjects, fashion design and the flora and fauna of nearby Pinwheel Forest. By now, Lenora was accustomed enough to his habits to look for the similarities between the two – more often than not, something from the wilderness drawings would appear in the clothes on the following pages.

"Arti?"

"Hmm?" he glanced up at the sound of his old nickname. She was the only one who still used it, or indeed his first name at all, and whenever she did he knew she was going to ask him something particularly important.

"You ever thought about training pokemon?"

"I might get a pet Purrloin..."

Lenora shook her head, chuckling and turning the page. "No... really training"" He didn't have to ask her why, his silence did so for him, and she continued, not ever looking up from the sketchbook. "There's talk of organizing an official league."

He stopped dead in his tracks, stunned. "In Unova? They'd never..." But her face said she was serious, so he cleared his throat and kept walking. "Well. We don't really have time for things like that. Still, it's nice to hear things are loosening up a little again."

She gave a soft nod, finally handing his book back to him, which he promptly slid into his satchel. He caught her trying to peek into the bag – it was bulging more than usual tonight, which didn't seem right for the sleek and organized Burgh. When he quickly sealed it again, she smirked. He noticed, cutting her off before she could ask what was in the bag.

"Were you thinking about training, then?"

Lenora sighed, knowing she'd have to choose between asking him and continuing with her own conversation. "Well... Grandpa had a Stoutland when I was really little. Scoundrel, I think was his name. And sometimes he'd show off some of the neat things Scoundrel could do... beams of ice, digging tunnels big enough for us kids to play in..."

"So you think you'd need a trainer's license just to have a pet like that, right?"

"I don't know, they might be useful even in other ways. Imagine if I had a pokemon that could dig like that on expeditions? I'm just thinking about the academic applications."

"And how soft and cuddly Scoundrel was, too, right?"

They both laughed before she scowled playfully. "You be careful... Dress or not, I can still kick you."

Burgh scoffed, "You wouldn't." The two exchanged another knowing glance, their hearty laughs ringing out over the silence of the night.

_To be continued very soon._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Wow, I didn't expect any comments, so thanks~!  
>My brain has put together more detail about these two's lives on its own than I normally decide on my original characters, which is a little crazy but hopefully enjoyable to all of you. Thanks again for reading.<p>

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><p><strong>Truly Inspirational – 2<br>**_Lyra Kamiya/Lyraeon_

"We're here," he announced minutes later, stopping at a barely lit corner and throwing his arms out. There were several warehouses around, and a dead end sign falling off its pole a block down, but he seemed to be motioning to the one in front of him, despite the hole in its roof.

"And where's here? I'd say you were planning something, but this is too quiet for a party."

"You really can't believe I didn't just pick out the perfect place for photos ahead of time?"

"Not when you have spray paint in your bag," Lenora countered, one hand on her hip. "Now spill."

He mirrored her, unable to contain his smile again. "I will, but you have to wait out here for a moment first."

"I'm not going to be your lookout, if that's what you want. I look like a street walker in this dress, and I'm not getting arrested the night before graduation."

"Whoa, calm down. It'll just be a second. Nothing for you to lookout for."

She tapped her foot as she waited, smiling despite her impatience. Burgh was infamous for small-scale harebrained schemes, and she had no doubt there was some art project waiting inside. She heard a generator kick on, followed by the flickering of fluorescent lights. "Alright, come on in," he called, and she obeyed.

She'd expected some sort of art project; what she got was a full blown mural. The entire inside of the warehouse was covered in designs and colors, leaving only a few spots where the decaying wood still showed. Buckets of paint lay around the floor, a ladder leaned against one corner, all of it lit by a single large construction lamp sitting beside the generator in the center of the floor.

"Burgh," she whispered, truly awed as she took in the scene. One short wall was covered in images of models in dresses, one of which she recognized as what she was wearing. The far wall was a mural of Nacrene University, surrounded by smaller views of other landmarks around town, against what seemed to be Pinwheel Forest. Part of another wall was a large version of a photo she'd seen repeatedly on his bulletin board at home: the port in Castelia. "How... how long has this taken you?"

"A year or so, on and off."

"And you haven't gotten caught?"

"Oh, I have. The first two times, Officer Jenny let me off with a warning. The third time, it was by the landlord of the area."

She looked panicked, but didn't stop taking in his art just the same. "Should we really be here, then?"

"Well, you see... this warehouse is mine, now. The landlord said it wasn't doing anything but costing him property taxes, so if I paid him enough to cover that, he'd let me do whatever I wanted."

"Wow," Lenora whispered, beginning to walk the perimeter, studying his art more closely. "It's beautiful. All of it."

"I told you I'd picked out the perfect place for your photos," he teased. She started to giggle, only to be caught off guard by the realization he was actually pointing to a specific part of the wall, which had been painted to look like a catwalk. "I admit, the lighting could have been better, but by the time I was done it was already getting dark."

"You just finished this today?" She stopped mid-reach, her fingertips only an inch from the wall.

"You did say I'd been missing for three days... this by day, the dress by night."

"And your capstone project at some point during that, I hope," she frowned. He hadn't started the year-long project last time she'd asked him about it, the weekend before.

The answer dawned on her the moment the words left her lips though, and she backed up slowly, taking in the entire warehouse again. "Well, you see..." he smiled, one hand resting on the small of her back, the other still tightly gripping his camera, "If you recall, the assignment for my major was to express what was most important to us."

He'd started the warehouse nearly a year before, and now here he was, the night before graduation, before the due date, asking her to pose there.

"I hadn't been able to shake the feeling it was missing something," he continued. "This wall has been blank this whole time, and that's when I realized... I needed a piece of you in here, too."

Lenora felt her cheeks heat far further than two glasses of wine should have allowed. "You're just full of flattery tonight," she joked.

"It's nothing like that, even... It's just that, Nacrene isn't complete without you. These walls are the story of my life, Lenora... You're a huge part of that."

"I'd call you drunk, but-"

"That would be beside the point."

She smiled. "Yes, it would. Alright... Where do you want me to stand?"

For several minutes he fussed with the lights, making her shift a few inches at a time while he found the right angle for each shot. The first few were made to look like she was on the runway; the next became a little sillier, at which point he started taking her around the room, posing with other parts of the mural. Each Polaroid was pinned carefully to one of the center beams, though their angles grew more obtuse as Burgh's creative fervor grew.

By the time he put in the third roll of film – the last, he promised – she'd caught his excitement. Her heart was pounding in her throat as he cracked open a half-used bucket of paint and urged her toward the blank section of wall with it.

She wasn't the artist. That was his job, while she was the practical half of the duo. And yet the spirit of the night got to her, and she was soon swooping her brush across the wood. Her strokes were far less skillful than his, but her joy was genuine, her spirits higher than she remembered feeling since high school.

And Burgh captured each moment of that elation on film. As he ran low on film, he needed a distraction so that he wouldn't waste the last shots – no, it wasn't that any of them even could be wasted on this night, but he didn't want to risk missing the perfect ones. So out again came the pipe and a small flask, both of which Lenora gratefully stole hits from, demanding new colors for her section of wall as she went.

Finally he put down the camera, leaving the last two pictures to be used once she was done, and he grabbed brushes to join her.

He tried to stop her from climbing up the ladder, but Lenora wanted more room to continue her work. It was hard to tell what part of her boldness was intoxication and what part was adrenaline. She pulled her curls back into a ponytail and hoisted the supplies to the top of the ladder, making it up only two rungs before she slipped. She was fine – her reflexes were surprisingly sharp, even while stoned – but a smear of white and pale blue ran up one side of the dress and one arm.

Before she could fuss about it, Burgh assured her that it would wash out, then helped her climb the rest of the way. He was honestly unsure if it would, but one dress wasn't worth ruining her elation over. He could make another dress; this night would never happen again.

At some point a rather dusty boombox was plugged into the generator as well, dimming the light slightly but adding ambiance to their project. The tape was an odd mix of current rock and true classical, all clearly recorded off the radio from the occasional second or two of DJ or commercial that accompanied the music. Truly the product of Burgh's tastes, though Lenora had no complaint toward either. Instead she just demanded it be turned up louder, to which he obliged.

"You should have hung a disco ball."

"Careful, or I'll cut you off." He snatched the nearly empty flask off of the ladder.

She threatened him with her paintbrush, leaving a spot of red across his nose when she misjudged the distance between them. They both laughed, shrugging it off, though he occasionally retaliated by flicking a brush at her.

Over the next two hours a painting of their childhood emerged, covering the old wood. Burgh worked on the colorful stucco house he'd grown up in, including the wind chime and a pidove perched outside his window on the second floor. Lenora's work was less detailed, but still came out recognizable – the row house she'd lived in with her mother and aunt, three blocks over from Burgh's house, complete with house number and her aunt's car that always billowed smoke but never stopped running.

And between the two grew the park and the elementary school within it where they'd first met. It was fall in Lenora's version, so Burgh wiped the green from his first two trees with his sleeve, replacing it with a few shades of brown and yellow.

The tape ended for the third time, but neither of them moved to flip it, their exhilaration running high even without violins and guitars to fuel it. Any track of time beyond "past midnight" was long lost, and their art was nearing completion at last...

The generator groaned, sputtering on the last bit of gas. Its solar charge had been used up before they'd even started painting, and now the light started to flicker and dim further.

"Quick, let's get a photo."

"But it's not quite done," Lenora insisted, leaning closer to the wall as she worked on the playground.

"It'll do," he insisted. When she still didn't budge he grabbed her by the waist with both hands, lifting her off the ladder, much to her surprise. "It'll more than do," he assured her, kissing both her cheeks before pushing the ladder out of the way.

She found herself in a daze, slightly confused at how she'd found her way to the ground, but she stepped off to the side diligently anyway, wiping any wet paint off her hands with her increasingly messy dress. She was more than a little overwhelmed between the adrenaline and the rest of the evening, her hands coming to rest at the part of her sides that still seemed a little warmer from Burgh's hands a moment before. But a few more steps back and she was able to take in everything they'd worked on.

Nothing was to scale with each other, but the effect was endearing. It almost seemed intentional, from Burgh's part at least, as though he was trying to make it childish to fit with the memories.

She heard the camera click behind her, startling her a few inches off the floor. "Arti!" she scolded, and he grinned, waving her out of the way gently.

"You just looked so thoughtful about it. I had to capture that." He set the still-developing picture aside, moving closer to the wall and kneeling to steady himself. He'd worked far more intoxicated than this before, but film had never been his best medium, and Polaroids were far from the best of cameras, so he was putting the extra effort in. "I should have plenty for the project," he announced after finally snapping the photo, "but I think I'll bring another roll when it's daylight tomorrow."

"I'll come with," Lenora announced without hesitation, shifting from foot to foot. She was growing antsy, not wanting the night's excitement to end already.

"One left. Why don't you come over here and-"

He was cut off by the generator giving one final grunt before the whole room went pitch black, leaving total silence in its wake as well.

"...Damn't," he finished, blinking as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. With the roof as broken as it was and a nearly full moon outside, there was still enough light to see, but no longer enough to paint or even get the lids back on the buckets. He started to stumble toward the pillar he'd posted the photos on, meaning to collect them, when he felt Lenora's hand on his shoulder.

She stifled a snicker before both burst out laughing at once, overcome by leftover adrenaline and the silliness of the situation. Emotion and substance alike had intoxicated them fully. For a few minutes they just leaned into each other and giggled.

As they calmed again, Burgh hugged her tightly for a moment, then cleared his throat as he let her go. "Let me grab these and then we'll head home."

"This place is still beautiful," she responded, pointing straight up at the large gap in the ceiling and the stars behind.

He stared at the sky for a moment, then back down at Lenora, her eyes shining in the dim starlight.

"There's still a little pot left... this is our last night in college. Let's just stay here a while. Lay and watch the stars, like we used to."

Like they hadn't, not since that last summer at her grandpa's farm half a decade earlier. He took a deep breath, defying the new surge of creativity that ran through him suddenly as she made inspiration strike him again. "I should paint the ceiling with stars," he murmured, eyes drifting upwards, only to be pulled back down by a soft hand wrapping into his.

"Please?"

_One more part, coming soon._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank you again, everyone. Finally finished with it, which probably makes this my quickest project since I came back to Pokemon fandom. Hopefully this is a sign of things to come, and my writing will be quicker again from now on!

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><p><strong>Truly <strong>**Inspirational  
><strong>_Lyra __Kamiya/Lyraeon_

"Please?"

They lay down with an odd silence, side by side, Burgh rolling up his scarf to give her a pillow and taking his satchel for himself. For a few minutes there was no sound, save their breathing and the occasional crackling of a match. Then even Lenora's breathing grew quiet after a small flock of woobat flew overhead, and he thought she'd fallen asleep until he saw a puff of smoke rise above her.

"So you're going to turn those in tomorrow?"

"Most of them. I'll have to make them look like a proper portfolio or something, of course."

Another deep inhale, followed by, "Then what?"

"I suspect that'll leave me with just enough time to put on something stuffy and head to the ceremony. If I time it right, I can even stall dinner with my folks until afterward."

She laughed, and he felt her fingers brush down his arm as she repeated, "And then what?" Her emphasis was different this time, her voice sounding a little hollow, almost worried. "It's tough to get a job as an artist around here..."

He knew where she was going; she'd asked it before. His parents had asked it before as well, though in the sickly sweet way they always did that made him almost feel guilty for it. Artists didn't get jobs, except maybe designing advertisements. Fashion designers were no better off. He'd finally told his mom he was going to be a hair dresser, but Lenora had seen through it.

There would be no bluffing this time, but he doubted she'd believe him anyway.

"I got a job in Castelia," he finally said, taking her hand and squeezing it firmly. "At a new label that just started up. I leave next week. It's just an entry level thing, I'll be more of a gofer than anything, but it's enough to pay rent and keep me fed."

The pregnant pause that followed made him nervous. He knew she'd be at least a little upset that he was leaving so suddenly, without telling her before now, but he'd be close enough to visit often, and he'd only known a few days himself.

His grip on her hand loosened, frustration welling him him, but she grabbed him all the tighter.

"I'm glad," she whispered back. "I really am."

But she was the one who sounded worried now. He waited for her to continue, trying not to get angry at how fake her answer sounded, giving her a moment to explain herself.

"I... I'm leaving for Johto in three weeks. I was worried you'd just be here, alone and out of work..."

Burgh jerked upright, staring back down at her. "Johto? But that means... The Alph dig? You really applied to it?"

"I know, I wasn't going to... but Professor Carolina was just so convincing. There's so many more opportunities for archeologists in Johto and Sinnoh than there are here..."

When he didn't answer, she sat up too, putting her other hand on top of their clasped ones. "I'll be back. You know Nacrene is my home. I'm only going in hopes of finding someone to help fund the museum... The fundraisers we're doing aren't enough to do anything but delay shutting the doors."

He stayed silent.

"Or is it the political climate? Because really, the war has been over for years now... And I won't be the only one from Unova going, eith-"

Burgh threw his arms around her tightly, squeezing her without warning and nearly knocking her off balance.

"...Burgh?"

"I knew this was goodbye, but I didn't expect it to be... quite this distant of one."

She hugged him back, burying her face into his shoulder as she nodded slightly. "Yeah. It'll be a year, at least."

"...And long distance charges are just horrible, so I'll always have to call you collect," he added. She laughed weakly and squeezed him harder. It was hard to ward off tears; she wasn't the most emotional of people, but she felt closer to him tonight than she had in a while, and alcohol tended to make anyone more sentimental.

"You'll just have to get noticed quickly, then you can afford to come visit."

"Visit Johto? Perish the thought..." he gave a chuckle of his own, nudging her head up so their eyes met. "Have you seen what they wear over there? I'd have a heart attack..."

She managed a smile that he could just barely make out in the moonlight, their foreheads resting together as their lonesome hug finally relaxed into a simple embrace. Yes, they would have to say goodbye – and very soon – but it wasn't permanent. They'd see each other again, and for now, it wasn't worth worrying about. For now, they were still here, together, in a room of their creation.

For a few moments they sat in silence, eyes shut, and both half expected to fall asleep there, in that condition.

Then Burgh opened his eyes to find hers right in front of his, inches away, their deep teal seemingly the brightest thing in the room. No sooner had he noticed that his heart was racing than he was distracted from it by a soft touch to his lips.

Lenora was kissing him. Sixteen years had passed of "almost"s and "maybe"s and affectionate pecks on the cheek, leading to one brief moment of a paintbrush's softness across his lips.

There were no fireworks, no sudden beam of moonlight through the broken roof, but a grin crossed his face all the time. "Miss Lenora... Are you coming on to me?"

She chuckled as their lips met again, more firmly this time, their heads finding the right angle with a strange ease. With each breath their arms shifted a little further, his coming to rest between her shoulder blades, stroking where his perfectly chosen cloth gave way to her skin. Hers looped around his neck in place of his scarf.

When he helped her lay back down, he was possessed by the urge to take another photo, or to at least draw her where she lay, but he knew this was not the time. He made a point, instead, of taking the scene in perfectly, studying every detail. She simply smiled, stroking his hand with her thumb, and made no attempt to avert his eyes. She was far too confident of a woman, and Burgh had seen too much of her for her to be shy now. There was a new glint to his eye that she couldn't help but notice, and when he knelt over her and his fingertips began to follow the course his eyes had before, she knew he was seeing her as more than just a work of art tonight.

He'd asked her before, jokingly, if she liked old men as much as she liked old stuff. Each time she had scowled, replying either that the two were entirely unrelated, or trying to get him back by saying all the good men had died in the war. Neither had phased him – there came a point of familiarity where jokes just faded into the conversation without notice, and they'd passed it in the seventh grade.

Regardless of her taste in the day to day, she'd always considered him her greatest find. She'd yet to meet another man, or indeed friend at all, who treated her with as much respect and sweetness as he did. As layers of clothing gave way between them, he proved to be even more of a treasure than she'd previously thought.

Each kiss grew more passionate, even as his lips found other places to linger. Along the way Lenora reached a point where she was torn between wanting this night to last forever, postponing their goodbye as long as possible, and urging him to hurry along. How he was managing to try even her well-trained archeologist's patience was a question she'd save for the morning, or next time if that time ever came.

But then he coaxed her dress aside with the same care he'd taken both making it for her and helping her into it, and from there the night reached fruition quickly.

"Arti," she whispered lovingly as they coiled together. The idea this would be the last time she would ever call him by that name never crossed her mind, never could have.

All that was there was joy, and the thought that there was nothing more appropriate, no way she would have preferred to finally have him, than being half covered in paint somewhere in the middle of Nacrene.

Their kisses continued, quicker and further apart as both fell into soft pants and moans. Despite their seclusion, both remained relatively quiet, as though they were trying to keep this their secret.

"Promise me you'll come back," he breathed, kissing the sweat from her forehead. "Promise me. The museum needs you. Nacrene needs you."

"I promise," she assured him. Right now she'd promise him the very earth if that's what he wanted, but she took his words to heart nonetheless.

"You're a powerful muse," he continued, and though she couldn't see it in the dark, she could hear his smile in his voice. "I've kept you to myself for far too long. This city needs you more than I do."

The wash of emotions his words left her with was more powerful than anything his body had brought her. "I promise," she repeated before her voice cracked from pleasure.

Burgh forced himself to hold his ground as she arched beneath him, to take in this, too, as a lasting memory that he could put down on paper later.

But he'd never been able to hold out against her for long, and when he collapsed alongside Lenora, he was as much aching for more of her as he was wholly satisfied.

"You're wrong..." she whispered, touching his cheek. "You're the one who's truly inspirational."

* * *

><p>"Honey?"<p>

Lenora's attention snapped back to reality, accompanied by the sensation that her husband had been calling for her for quite some time.

"I've got a few papers I need you to sign, for the construction of the new wing. And then I think there's a challenger in the library..." Hawes stepped over and kissed her on the cheek, glancing at the photo she had in her hand. "Oh... your college days. No wonder you seemed so far away," he teased.

She laughed, putting the old Polaroid back on its shelf. "Yeah, that was a different time... and honestly a different place."

It'd been over fifteen years since that night, and she'd come back, as she promised. Burgh still came back from time to time, as well, but both of them had found success in their own lives and trades. At times she wondered if they hadn't both become trainers, and later gym leaders, as an excuse to have something in common again.

And that night had remained secret, though their warehouse had not; the entire district had been bought up, one building at a time, by entrepreneurs and artists seeking places for their cafes and studios, until Nacrene had become a capital for the arts that rivaled Castelia itself.

They argued sometimes, over whom it was that had brought the light back to their home town, but in the end, it seemed most likely they'd done it together.

_**Fin**_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thanks so much for reading! I'd love to know what you think, and if there are any other pairings floating around out there you'd like to see from me. I've had fun with these sort of past fics in other fandoms before, so I'm surprised it took me so long to do one here! Definitely love to play with the less common characters.

I also went looking for fanart of these two, and while I was sad that I found almost none, I was very happy that I found this one, which fits how I see them very, very well: junkeemunky(dot)deviantart(dot)com/art/needed-inspiration-201752765 They're an awesome artist, and knowing there was anyone else out there who shipped these two really helped me get it done :) So thank you~


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